Walkin' the Beat
by Ponyboy '92
Summary: AU: Meet Kanda, oddball cop with a love of arresting innocent civilians. And Allen, oddball college student/innocent civilian. And Lenalee, the not-so-oddball cop. And Lavi, the drug dealer, but that isn't suspicious at all. :CRACK
1. ONE: That Crazy Cop

**Walkin' the Beat**

For Emiggax, because she brings out the Kanda + Allen humor in me.

This will not make any sense to you unless I describe it first.

So, in this fic, I've boosted everyone's ages three years (i.e. Kanda is 21, Allen is 18, HOORAY), to make things easier for me.

All right, that's all. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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ONE: That Crazy Cop

"Hey there, Officer Kanda! Feelin' a little lucky today?"

Yuu Kanda glared at the vendor in the street. "Do you want to get _arrested_, crackpot?" he snarled. The vendor cowered and shut his mouth, bending down to hide under his stall. Kanda sneered and kept walking, twirling his lethal baton with his fingers.

Soon, he saw children playing in the middle of the street.

"I _hate_ children…" he hissed, slowly stalking up to them.

One boy looked up. "Hey guys, it's Officer Kanda!" he shouted. "Let's get out of here!"

All the kids screamed in agreement and ran away to the other side of the street. Kanda's eye twitched and he gave chase, swinging his baton about.

"Goddammit!" he growled. "Get back here so I can read you your rights!" All the kids had evacuated to the other side of the street by this point, and the long-haired police officer stopped immediately, watching a semi-truck speed down the road where the kids were just playing. "Oh for God's _sake_…"

"Timmy!" a hysterical woman cried as she ran out across the street. "Where are you Timmy?! Please don't tell me you got run over!" She broke down on the ground, sobbing and kissing the concrete. "I never got to tell you that daddy was never coming back, because I'm a cheating whore!"

"Uh, mom?" the boy from before said cautiously. "I'm right here."

"Oh, Timmy!" the lady bawled, grabbing her son and hugging him tightly. "I thought you had died!"

"No, we saw that crazy officer Kanda and ran away!" Timmy explained. "I guess he was trying to warn us about that semi instead of trying to arrest us like always!"

"Wow, that officer is the _nicest_ cop ever!"

"The HELL I am!" Kanda roared. "I was trying to get those kids in jail for violating the rule of 'No playing in the streets'!"

"D'awww…he even teaches life lessons!"

"Hey! Are you _listening_ to me over here?! I fucking HATE kids!"

"Man, dig that _craaaazy_ cop!"

And everyone laughed, making Kanda clench his baton and wield it threateningly.

"You're all lucky that I can't arrest all of you!" he hissed, and he stalked away.

"Wait!" one little girl called. All the prior children crowded about in front of Kanda, making the Japanese cop step back in horror. "We just wanted to say we love you, Officer Kanda!"

"You're the best cop ever!" one boy piped up.

Kanda scowled. "You're damn right I'm the best cop ever, and I don't need some snot-nosed brat to tell me. Now, outta my way!"

"But…we _love_ you!" And all the children started hugging the poor man, making him get angrier than usual.

"Get offa me!" he snarled, kicking his legs out from underneath the children's arms. "I said I hate children!"

"Isn't that so cute?" some women cooed. "He's trying to not show any of his overwhelming love for children!"

"I don't HAVE any love for children, goddammit!" Kanda screeched, kicking the last child off his legs and running away for his cruiser. The children shared secret high-fives.

Once he reached his dull police car, he revved it up immediately and took off towards the one place he always got a kick out of terrorizing.

The _Millennium_ _Train Station_.

Kicking open the door, Kanda stepped out and straightened his police uniform, an evil smirk settling on his face.

Sauntering about the train station, he took great pleasure in the frightened looks everyone gave him, and all was right in the world.

And then he saw a shock of white hair in his peripheral vision, standing at the entrance.

"Hel-_lo_…" he purred. "New meat…"

Stalking up to the white-haired person, fingering his handcuffs, Kanda fixed his face into its normal scowl.

And then the person fell over.

Everybody watched the body carefully, as if hoping it would get right back up and dust off its clothing.

And then a woman screamed.

And everyone started panicking.

"Oh my FRICKIN' God he's dead!" a teenaged girl screamed on her pink cellphone.

The cellphone was on speaker. "For _real_?! Is he still alive?!"

Throughout the chaos and commotion, Kanda stepped up to the body.

"Hey!" he yelled, trying to get everyone's attention. "HEY!"

He pulled out his gun and fired a shot in the air.

Everyone stopped.

"Thank you." The Japanese cop said calmly. "Now, I can tell you if he's dead!"

"He's lyin'!" someone yelled in the crowd, making everyone prepare to panic.

"I'm not fucking lying!" Kanda roared. "It's okay, I'm a police officer!" He bend down on one knee and grabbed the (seemingly) young man's pale hand. It was very limp. He dropped it back to the ground, where it fell. Limply.

"Okay, he's dead."

"No I'm not!"

The entire congregation gasped at the white-haired man, who stood up and brushed off his clothes in irritation.

"Just because someone falls down for no reason and doesn't breathe nor show any signs of a pulse doesn't mean they're _dead_!" he snapped.

Kanda snorted. "Oh, and so I was supposed to think 'he's so alive and healthy that I guess he must be ALIVE'?" he retorted. The Japanese cop pulled out his handcuffs. "You're going downtown, asshole."

"What?" the white-haired man demanded as Kanda snapped the cuffs on his wrists. "_Why_?!"

"For disobeying an officer and false allusions." Kanda replied. "Now start walking."

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"Allen Walker?"

The white-haired man looked up from scratching a 1 on the stone wall. "That's me," he said. The barred door opened.

"You're free to go," the police officer said in a thick Australian accent.

"But I've only been here three minutes!"

"More than enough time for your offense." The guard said. "Now, get outta here before Kanda gets back on the prowl."

He didn't need to tell Allen twice.

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END 1

Next chapter will feature Lavi, that totally suspicious guy that no one can remember why he's so suspicious, and Allen, the innocent college student, along with Kanda, the cop who does his job a little _too_ well.


	2. TWO: Coconut Cocaine

**Walkin' the Beat**

Oi vey, you guys're awesome.

I'll make this chapter special (not).

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_TWO: Coconut Cocaine_

"One black coffee, please."

The flamboyantly dressed dark-skinned man with pink dreadlocks on the other side of the counter smiled at Allen. His nametag gleamed, stating the name 'Jerry'.

"Would you like anything else, sweetcakes?"

"Every single pastry you have in that glass box right there." Allen replied, rifling through his wallet.

Jerry faltered. "Are you sure about that? They pack a _lot_ of calories, and I doubt you want to mess up your sexy figure."

"It's part of my medication." Allen replied, pulling out a thin sheet of paper victoriously. He handed it to Jerry, who took it with a look of suspicion.

"Your medication?" he wondered. "It says here… 'Allen Walker is very, very, _very_ sick and needs to eat lots of sweet and calorie packed foods. Because he is very sick and will die if he doesn't get the food. And it will be all your fault. Feed him. Now.'" He squinted his eyes at the smaller print. "'Any and all food eaten will be paid in full by the medical insurance company.' Oh, well that's okay then!" He started stuffing all the pastries into a paper bag, handing it to Allen when he was done, along with the coffee.

"Here you go, you poor, disabled sweetheart." Jerry cooed, blowing a kiss at the white-haired teen.

Allen smiled. "Thanks Jerry, I'll be sure to tell my doctor how you let me live a little longer," he said, pulling a donut out the bag and stuffing it into his mouth with one bite.

"Oh, you'll make me cry, sweetcakes!" the Indian man cried. "Go, I'll refill your prescription tomorrow!"

"Thanks Jerry."

And he walked out the café, smiling evilly.

"_Sucker_," he purred, chomping a cookie happily. He did not notice the black-haired cop that walked into the café after he left, nor did the cop notice him.

"WHAT THE _FUCK_ DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE OUT OF DONUTS?!" an angry scream came from the café moments later. Allen shook his head.

"Poor guy."

He closed his eyes in joy as he bit into a jelly-filled pastry, not exactly watching where he was going.

"Oof!" a deep voice grunted as Allen walked right into a tall stranger's chest.

"Sorry about that," the white-haired teenager said, looking up into a single green eye.

The stranger grinned at him, running his fingers through his bright red hair. "No problem, man!" he replied happily. There was something _very_ suspicious about this guy, but Allen just couldn't put his finger on it. "I'm pretty glad you bumped into me anyway, shortstuff."

"Right, well, I'll be going then," said Allen.

"NO! I mean, no, I have something you might like!" the redhead grabbed his wrist and gently tugged him in the direction of an innocent looking booth in the entrance of an alley.

"Do I know you?" the scarred college student asked slowly. "I mean, you could be a drug dealer for all I know."

The stranger let out a slightly high-pitched laugh. "Drug dealer?" he asked. "Me? Oh, you crack me up! But, I'm Lavi, and I'm totally not a drug dealer."

Allen stared at him oddly. "Are you sure? You're really freaking me out right about now."

"Would a drug dealer sell _these_?" Lavi pulled out a thick briefcase, popping it open with a smirk. Inside the briefcase were rows and stacks of delicious looking candy. Oddly colored, but delicious-looking.

"Wow…" Allen gasped. He reached out to touch a lollipop, but Lavi smacked his hand away.

"You gotta buy it first, man." The redhead chastised. "It's all very special. I use a special ingredient in each sweet, making it so addictive you'll _always_ come back for more."

"Sounds like drugs to me." Allen commented. "In fact, all the candy looks oddly like various antidepressants, dopamine drugs, and mind stimulants. That green one is colored like marijuana!"

Lavi's one eye that wasn't covered by the eyepatch darted around carefully. "No, it, uh, it isn't made of drugs," he answered slowly. "I swear."

The white-haired teen glanced at the candy once more. "All right, if you say so. I'll take one—"

"It's drugs that look like candy!" Lavi blurted. Allen stared at him in unveiled horror. "I mean, its candy that look like drugs! See, that's what always get them to try one!"

"Um, all right?" Allen pointed at an unnaturally white lollipop. "What flavor is that?"

"Coconut Cocaine." The redhead drug/candy dealer answered.

"Uh huh. And that one?"

"Watermelon Meth."

"That one?"

"Hass Heroine."

"And what about that one?"

"Cranberry Crack."

"But it's _white_. Shouldn't it be red?"

Lavi rolled his eye. "Food coloring. _Duh_." It must've been the most obvious answer ever.

Allen frowned. "Right. Well, what about that green one that looks like marijuana?"

"Melon Marijuana, of course."

"I'll take the Melon Marijuana."

The redhead plucked the lollipop from the briefcase, shutting it immediately after. "That'll be twenty dollars."

"_Twenty_ dollars?"

Lavi smiled. "Well, since it's your first time, I'll let you have it for _free_. You'll have to pay next time, though," he said in a sinister manner.

Allen took the lollipop. "What makes you so sure that I'll be back for more?" he asked suspiciously.

"Trust me, _everyone_ comes back for more."

"Huh, I'll remember that." A gloved hand unwrapped the lollipop, and Allen stuck out his tongue to lick it with a smile.

Then he stopped.

"What now?!" Lavi cried.

Allen looked at him suspiciously. "Are you _sure_ this isn't a drug that looks like candy?" he asked.

"Positive, now just _taste_ the goddamn weed—I mean, candy. Yeah, candy."

The white-haired teen shrugged and opened his mouth again, but then a foreboding feeling passed throughout his body. Lavi watched in shock as Allen dropped the candy.

"Oh dear."

And he fell over, face hitting the sidewalk.

Lavi's eye twitched and he looked to the side only to see the ever-angry officer Kanda.

This could be entertaining.

"Hey Copper!" he greeted, grinning happily. Kanda grunted at him, not looking at the ground. "Oh, I'd watch where I was going if I were you."

Kanda glared. "You aren't me, so shut the fuck up, crackhead," he snarled.

And then he tripped over Allen's comatose body. He face planted the ground, a thin stream of blood slipping through his nose.

The white haired college student blearily opened his eyes, grimacing at the weight on top of his legs.

"Did I gain weight during this spell or something?" he grumbled, trying to sit up. He looked down at his jean-clad legs and saw the long body of a police officer sprawled over them. The tell-tale black ponytail was all Allen needed to see to know that this cop would not react well.

He tried to subtly move his legs out from under the man, but a grumpy voice stopped him.

"Move any more and I'll snap my handcuffs on you so fast you'll think I was a stripper at a bachelorette party." The cop rumbled.

Lavi pulled out a Coconut Cocaine lollipop. "That'd be pretty hot," he muttered, sticking the sucker in his mouth. He smiled dopily.

Allen was very scared. "I'm, uh, sorry?" he whimpered.

"That voice…it sounds oddly familiar…" the cop grumbled. He slowly began to sit up, removing his legs on the younger man. He turned and saw the teenager, eyes widening in anger. "You're that troublemaker that refuses to die!" he snapped, blood dripping down his chin.

"Hey!" Allen protested weakly. "I just have a health condition!"

"Tell it to the judge, fucker. You're goin' downtown!"

"The _hell_ I am!" the white-haired teen retorted, scrambling off the ground and running away down the sidewalk. Kanda snarled and jumped up, giving chase.

"Get back here!" he roared, swinging his baton about. "I can't arrest you if you're far away from me!"

"And that's just the way I'd like to keep it!" Allen replied frightfully.

"STOP RUNNING!"

"_NEVER_!"

Lavi turned his head to watch the two run down the street, lollipop in his mouth all the while.

He sighed.

"There goes a coulda-been customer."

**END 2**

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So, now we've got Lavi the not-a-drug-dealer in, and next we'll get in Lenalee, best cop with boobs ever. And maybe even Tyki and Rhode, the mafia members that can't exactly do the gangster thing correctly.


	3. THREE: Like a Pro Wrestler

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Walkin' the Beat

Any and all Italian accents will have to be imagined in your head. Because some things are just much too difficult to type out.

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THREE: Like a Pro Wrestler

_CRACKLE._ "_Officer Lenalee Lee, Officer Lenalee Lee, please come in!_" _CRACKLE._

A Chinese woman with medium-length black hair put down her container of Chinese fried rice and grabbed the radio urgently.

"This is Officer Lee, what's going on?" she asked, her mouth to the radio.

_CRACKLE._ "_We've got an EIGHT-FOUR! I repeat, an EIGHT-FOUR!" CRACKLE._

Lenalee furrowed her eyebrows. "Wait, what?" she responded, confused. "What in the world are you talking about?"

_CRACKLE. "No time! It's just an EIGHT-FOUR! EIGHT-FOUR! Not ate-for, EIGHT-FOUR!" CRACKLE._

"What the hell is an eight-four?"

No response.

"Komui, you better answer this damn radio or I'll marry the first guy I see!"

_CRACKLE. "I'LL KILL HIM, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL!" CRACKLE._

Lenalee smirked. "That's better," she said. "Now, what is an eight-four?"

_CRACKLE. "Er, it's an emergency kind of alert?" CRACKLE._

She narrowed her eyes. "You're not telling me exactly what it is, are you?" she asked suspiciously.

_CRACKLE. "Um, er, uh… youhavetocomeintocontactwithsomeNoahsthatareharassingrandomcitizens." CRACKLE._

"I have to do what in the where? Huh?"

_CRACKLE. "Oooh, sorry Lenalee, there's a lot of static here. FWURSCHT! I can't hear you!" CRACKLE._

"Goddammit Komui!"

_CRACKLE. "FWURSCHT!" CRACKLE._

Lenalee put the radio back in its hold, rubbing at her temples irritably. "I have a bad feeling about this…" she muttered, starting up her police cruiser and pulling out the parking lot of her favorite Chinese food place.

She grabbed the radio. "Can I at least get a location?" she demanded.

_CRACKLE. "They're on Eighth and Akuma Avenue. Have fun!" CRACKLE._

The woman sighed and clicked on her sirens, speeding down the surface streets to the alleged Noahs.

"I hate the Noahs," she muttered to herself. "I especially hate those two troublemakers that constantly make my life harder than it should be. Tyki Mikk and Rhode Camelot, the especially bad ones are."

Pulling up to Eighth Street, she turned off her sirens and stepped out the vehicle, searching around for any dark-skinned, suit-wearing individuals with decidedly random markings on their foreheads.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have any money on me right now." A voice said from an alley behind Lenalee. A painfully recognizable voice answered the first in a bad Italian accent.

"Oh really?" the other voice replied gruffly. "We don't like that, do we Rhode?"

A much younger voice piped up, in an equally bad Italian accent, "That's right, Tyki!"

Lenalee smacked her forehead.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but I honestly have nothing on me at the moment. I have to visit the bank, and maybe you can mug me afterwards?"

Tyki snorted. "Yeah right, and let you get away? I think you're lying, and I hate liars. In fact, when people lie to my face, Rhode likes to shank them. Don't you, Rhode?"

"With a knife!"

"With a _knife_."

"Okay, break it up!" Lenalee shouted as she stepped into the alley, holding her baton out threateningly. A tall, handsome man with shoulder-length, slicked back, curly hair looked over at her, along with a young girl with short, spiky, black hair. They both wore identical black suits. "You two, you're coming with me! And sir, I apologize for them. They don't know what they're doing."

The man whom they were attempting to mug just smiled at the officer. "I understand completely," he said.

"Hey!" Tyki whined. "We were doing great until you strolled in, Officer Lee!"

"Tyki…just shut up. _Please._"

Rhode tugged at the woman's hand. "Can we discuss this in that café? I'm hungry."

Tyki waggled his thin, perfectly arched eyebrows. "Yeah, I'm hungry too, _officer_," he purred.

Lenalee sighed. "All right, but if I sit down and talk with you guys, you've got to do better. You're the worst gangsters I've ever seen!"

"Way to wriggle your way into my heart, Officer." Tyki replied, a little insulted. They entered the café, Lenalee nodding at Jerry, who smiled brightly at her.

Tyki sat gracefully in a booth, making the other two sit along with him.

"So," he began in what he thought to be a seductive, sultry tone. "Did you come to see me or what?"

Lenalee rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself, Tyki. I got a…eight-four, I guess, and I had to come and stop you two from harassing more citizens," she replied. "Honestly, you guys need to get a life or become an actual threat to society. I'm tired of being the babysitter for the goddamn Noah family mafia."

"You can sit my baby any day, Officer Lee." Tyki replied sexily. The dark-skinned man flagged down a waitress, smiling charmingly as she trotted up. "Can I have two Earl Gray teas? A few biscuits would do nicely as well. And you, Officer, would you like anything?"

"I'll take a black coffee."

"She'll take a black coffee."

The waitress nodded exuberantly. "Of course sir! I'll get them for you immediately!" she promised, and scurried off.

The mob member chuckled. "Silly girl, that trick was for kids…" he muttered to himself.

The Chinese cop sighed. "You're too much for me, Tyki."

"And I can be so much more."

"Can you stop turning everything I say into an intimate context?!"

"That was getting kind of annoying," Rhode said, still sticking to her bad accent.

Lenalee fixed a look at the teenager. "And drop the accent, Rhode. You aren't very convincing."

"Screw you! I can be the best Scarface ever, if I put in a real effort!"

"But you aren't putting in a real effort, now are you?"

The fifteen-year-old pouted, looking down at the table. "…No…" she mumbled.

"Then kindly shut the hell up. Tyki! Stop staring at me like that!" Lenalee scolded.

The dark-skinned man smiled a white-toothed smile. "I can't help observing true beauty at it's finest, Officer. You know this."

"Oh for _God's sake_…"

"Here're your orders!" the waitress announced, holding up a tray.

Tyki took his and Rhode's tea off her hands, smiling all the while. Lenalee took her coffee and the biscuits, glaring at the Mafioso from the side.

"This tea is simply fantastic," Tyki commented. "You should try it, Officer."

"No thanks," Lenalee replied blandly, sipping at her coffee. "I'll stick with my coffee."

The other just shrugged and sipped at his tea idly as Rhode ate the biscuits.

And all was silent, as the trio simply enjoyed their snacks quietly.

"Goddammit Tyki, stop running your foot up my pants' leg!"

Until someone had to screw it up.

Tyki lowered his teacup. "Am I coming on too strong?" he asked cautiously.

"Like a professional wrestler." Lenalee sighed. "Look Tyki, I'm a cop, you're a top member in a prominent gang. It just wouldn't work out."

"I can change!" he cried. He reached into his inner-pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a pair of outrageously round and swirly glasses. Putting them on the bridge of his nose, he mussed up his hair and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt.

"See, I'm a completely different person!"

"Tyki, just…_no_. I'm sorry, but _no._"

"Dammit."

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END 3

If you thought Tyki and Rhode sucked at the entire criminal thing, then you haven't seen Debitto. Kanda's got a mission, and Allen's somehow naked, but don't dwell on that.


	4. FOUR: Aren't You?

**Walkin' the Beat**

I love both the twins equally.

That's why they both get their own chapters.

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_FOUR: Aren't You…?_

Allen Walker cannot remember exactly why he moved to this creepy new town just to go to that creepy college.

But he can say that he severely regrets it, as he sticks his head out the door of a small bookshop looking around with an air of paranoia.

"Are you okay?" the store clerk asked slowly.

Allen flashed him a smile. "I'm _fine_," he answered. His eyes darted around nervously. "I'm just making sure there's no one out here that is equipped with any handcuffs. I'm beginning to develop a phobia. Handcuff-phobia…that sounds genius. I should register it in the phobia database. Yes, it'll look spectacular on my resume—'Discovered New Phobia!' Perhaps I should—"

"Sir," the clerk cut him off abruptly. "Please, just leave."

"Am I rambling?" Allen asked worriedly. "Because I have a bad habit of rambling when I'm nervous. Oh, by the way, I love your tie. It's so nicely designed and—"

"_Leave_."

The white-haired man laughed lightly and nodded. "My apologies," he said. He exited the shop, waving.

Then he walked down the sidewalk, his worries lessening with each step.

"I wonder if Lavi's still selling candy that look like drugs," he asked himself idly, turning the corner. "They sure did look delicious…I think I'll get another one off him today."

And suddenly, he stopped in his steps.

There was a police cruiser parked at the sidewalk a block away from Lavi's spot. But that was normal, as police cruisers were fairly common in this odd city.

The officer, on the other hand, was _not_ who Allen was itching to see.

Officer Kanda leaned against the driver's side car door, looking at a thick stack of papers intensely and sipping at a cup of coffee.

Allen gulped.

"If I walk really slowly and inconspicuously," he said quietly to himself. "Then I might not arouse any of his suspicion. Okay, let's go with that."

So, he started walking in a fast-paced manner pass Officer Kanda, acting as though both his hair and ridiculously pale skin were not incredibly noticeable.

He had almost made it to the other side of the block!

"Hey, troublemaker!"

"_Shit_."

Allen turned around, nervously, and flashed a smile at the grumpy officer. "How are you today Officer Crackpot—I mean Kanda. Yes. Kanda."

Kanda narrowed his eyes. "Don't start with me, kid," he warned. "I haven't arrested you yet today, but that doesn't mean I won't. Now, come over here!" He waved his hand frantically.

The white-haired teenager slowly walked to the cop, body tensed in case the man pulled out any handcuffs on impulse.

The Japanese cop showed him the first paper from the stack. A dark-skinned man with an evil smile and a fur jacket stared back at him from the mug shot, making the college student wonder what in the world was going on.

"Have you seen this man?" Kanda demanded.

Allen shook his head. "Not in my life. Is he dangerous or something?" he asked curiously, looking back at the picture.

"_Dangerous_?" the cop spat. "He's a big member in the Noah family fucking mafia! The name is Debitto, and he's an extremely well-trained thief. Seriously, half the people never know they got robbed until he's five blocks away!"

"Oh. Uh, then why are you telling me this?"

"It's a warning. _Heed it_."

Allen blinked. "O…kay?" he said carefully. "I'll be going now. I'd like to buy some candy."

"You stand in my presence for three more seconds and I swear to God that I'm arresting you."

"Okay!" the younger man squeaked, walking away as swiftly as possible.

As soon as he was across the street down the block from the psycho-cop, Allen bumped into someone once more.

"Oof!" he huffed, recoiling a bit. He opened his gray eyes, looking up at the taller man who stared down at him with a smile stolen from a professional con-artist.

"Hey," the man said in a deep voice, fixing his fur coat. "I like your shirt."

Allen looked down at his regular button-up white shirt and blinked. "Thanks, I guess?" he asked suspiciously. Then he got a really good look at the guy. "Hey, aren't you that klepto?"

The man frowned. "Er, no?' he answered cautiously.

"Yeah, you look like that guy. Debitto… that's your name, correct?"

Debitto coughed into his fist. "Uh, I don't steal things," he replied, smiling disarmingly. He readjusted a backpack that was not quite there before. "Really, I don't."

"But you just stole my backpack." Allen pointed out, looking at his side in confusion. "How'd you do that, anyway?"

"I didn't steal it. I found it coincidentally."

"On my _shoulder_?"

"Yes."

There was a sudden breeze on the pale man's arms. "You stole my shirt!" Allen exclaimed incredulously. "That's virtually impossible!"

Debitto buttoned up a white collared shirt. "See?" he insisted. "It's impossible, so I couldn't possibly have been the one to do it."

The white-haired eighteen-year-old opened his mouth to argue with Debitto's logic, but it was _quite_ windy that day.

"My legs are rather cold…oh no!" Allen crossed his legs as a way of attempting to keep himself covered. "How in the world are you doing these things?!"

"I'm not. By the way, your legs are exceptionally pretty."

"_Not the point!_ Do not steal my underwear!"

"My criminal senses are tingling!" an all-too-familiar call reverberated to them. Debitto had a panicked look and he glanced around, paranoid.

"Uh, you didn't see me," he said quickly. The dark-skinned thief walked away at a fast pace, making it around the corner the moment Officer Kanda reached the street he and Allen conversed.

Allen watched him go.

And then he realized he was practically naked in the middle of the street.

"Damn you!" he shouted, shaking his fist threateningly. "I'll get my things back from you one day!"

Kanda stared at the angry British man for a moment. And a smile crept onto his face as he processed all the things he could do at this very moment, but only one appealed to him the most.

"Hey!" he called. "That's public nudity! You should get arrested for that!"

Allen whipped his head around, distressed. "Do you even _need_ reasons to arrest me anymore?" he cried.

The cop looked contemplative.

He shook his head.

"Then _why_ do you keep doing it anyway!?"

"I'm a police officer because I like to put people I don't like—I mean criminals in jail. You just so happen to be a…criminal."

"Oh. Well, I'm resisting arrest."

Kanda pulled out his handcuffs, smirking. "I'd like to see you try. I can make this seem like an episode of COPS if you do resist," he replied evilly. "So, bad boy, what're you gonna do?"

The white-haired man looked around the ironically bare street and back down at his lack of real clothing.

He held up his hands with a sigh.

"By the way," he commented as Kanda snapped the handcuffs on him. "That 'bad boy' line you just used sounded like a really bad pick-up line. You should try better."

"Shut the hell up before I put you in big kid jail, troublemaker!"

--

"Give me all of your goddamn candy!"

Lavi cocked an eyebrow at the golden gun barrel that pointed directly at his forehead. "Debitto," he started calmly. "You are aware that you're trying to rob me for some candy, right?"

Debitto laughed, putting the gun back into the waistband of his jeans.

"I'd never do that to you Lavi," he said teasingly.

"That's great. You still don't get any free candy, dude."

"Damn it." The dark-skinned man blinked innocently. "Just one Cranberry Crack…pleeeeease?"

"Debitto, twenty or bust. You choose."

Debitto huffed, straightening up. "Fine! I don't need you or your goddamn candy!" he growled. "I can do bad all by myself!"

"Okay. You do that then. I'll still have my candy, and I'll still be selling it for twenty bucks when you skip by here again." Lavi licked his Melon Marijuana idly. He smiled dreamily. "Damn this shit is good."

"Hmph!"

And the thief walked away.

Lavi picked up his suitcase, marveling at how ridiculously light the pack felt now. He opened it, only to find _every single_ piece of candy gone.

"How the _hell_ does he do that?" he asked himself incredulously.

He shrugged, putting the suitcase underneath his stand and pulling out another one.

"It's a great thing I heard Officer Kanda and put real candy on the table," he stated happily. "I guess I'll just have to send Debitto a 'Sorry, Try Again' card."

Debitto, on the other hand, was quite enamored with his candy.

"This actually tastes like cranberries!" he said in amazement. "That guy is a _genius_!"

**END 4**

* * *

I feel bad for all those people who dwelled on Allen's nudity, but oh well. Next, we'll have Jasdero, psychic consultant with a gun, and Miranda, a dressmaker who's looking to see want awaits her in the future. And maybe there'll be a bit of Officer Lenalee, who harbors a secret liking of the occult anyway.


	5. FIVE: The Night Light of Life

**Walkin' the Beat**

Well, Wikipedia says that Jasdero is a woman.

This may be the first time I've actually ignored my bible. So, since I honestly have _no_ idea what gender Jasdero is…we'll call the Noah a man. If the condom fits, wear it, as I always say. (Did I ever mention how I'm a dirty, dirty liar? No? Well, I'm a dirty, _dirty_ liar.)

_

* * *

_

FIVE: The Night Light of Life

"Free psychic reading?" a thin, pale, inky-haired woman read off the sparkling, eye catching sign. Underneath the title, though, it read "Not a scam. Seriously. The psychic is not part of the Noah family mafia."

Apparently, this was a totally legitimate business.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try…" the woman murmured, fingering her purse lightly. She looked at the obnoxiously purple tent, a small gleam coming into her eyes. "It would be an interesting experience in the least…"

And with that, she walked into the purple tent that sat inconspicuously outside on the sidewalk in front of Millennium Enterprises.

A creepy hippie greeted her.

"Welcome, Miranda Lotto the dressmaker!" the hippie said, waving. His golden hair was brushed back in a headband, and his lips were loosely stitched together. He wore a fashionable fur-collar vest with no shirt underneath, and ripped bellbottom jeans. The man's skin was grey and he had a very suspicious smile.

He looked very…_odd_.

Miranda gasped. "However did you know my name? And my _occupation_?" she asked, amazed.

The psychic rolled his eyes passionately. "I'm psychic, _duh_." He did spirit fingers. "I can talk to the spirits and all that shit. So, what do you want to know?"

"Well…" Miranda began, sitting on the cushion in front of the 'psychic'. "I apologize, but I need a little more verification that you're a psychic…"

"What?" the psychic demanded. "I just told you your name and occupation! And I _predicted_ you. I must be psychic."

Miranda flinched. "I'm very sorry!" she apologized, grabbing her purse. "I shouldn't be here, questioning the psychicness that is you!"

"Damn right," the blond man muttered. Then he looked panicked. "Wait! Don't go! I'll, uh, I'll tell you something that _you_ didn't even know!"

The pale woman paused. "Really?" she asked, blinking.

"Really. Um, hold on." He closed his eyes and began to run his hands above the bright crystal ball. "The Night Light of Life says: My name is Jasdero." 'Jasdero' opened his eyes, grinning. "I bet you didn't know _that_."

"Wow…" Miranda whispered. "I really _didn't_ know that. You must be psychic."

Jasdero nodded. "That's what I said, right?" he leaned his head on his palm, wide golden eyes staring at Miranda. "So, what do you want to know?"

The black-haired woman frowned, fidgeting with her bag. "I…" she murmured nervously. "I don't really know…"

The blond rolled his eyes. "You've got to choose _something_, Miranda. How about I tell you your future?" he smiled in a way that reminded Miranda eerily of a con-artist.

"You can really do that?" the dressmaker asked, impressed.

"Of course. Now!" Jasdero began rubbing the crystal ball. "The Night Light of Life says: You will be getting hungry in a few hours."

Miranda gasped. "In a few hours it _would_ be my dinnertime!" she whispered, hand to her mouth in shock.

"You are also going to take a bath sometime tonight."

"How did you _know_?"

Jasdero smirked. "Psychic, duh."

It must be true, Miranda thought with a sort of amazement. Only a psychic could predict things so very accurately.

"Well," she began with a nervous smile. "Since you really _are_ psychic… I suppose you can tell me what my far off future will be like?"

"Um," the psychic hippie hummed in thought. "Er, sure. Uhhh, Night Light of Life, give me your prediction!" The crystal ball just sat there. He picked up a golden gun, much to Miranda's shock, and held it to the crystal ball, cocking it threateningly. It swirled a bit, and then golden eyes widened in shock. "Oh, wow."

"What is going on?" Miranda asked, frightened. "Is it something terrible?"

Jasdero put the gun down, face solemn. "It's worst than terrible, Miranda. It's so bad I don't even want to tell you."

The pale woman was beginning to feel paranoid. "W-what's going on?" Really paranoid, in fact.

"Are you _sure_ you want to know?" the moderately deformed man asked, petting the crystal ball.

"Yes, please!"

"Well, you asked for it…" He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes tight. "Miranda, the Night Light of Life says: …You will get AIDS."

Miranda faltered. "I'm sorry, what?" she replied, frowning.

"You're gonna get AIDS. You know, that crazy STD that's killing bunches of people these days? You're gonna get it." The blond looked significantly less remorseful than he did a few moments ago. "Sorry Miranda, better luck in another life."

"Oh no…" The inky-haired woman blinked, horrified. "But, is there anyway I can stop myself from getting AIDS?" she asked, hands clenched tightly.

Jasdero tapped his cheek. "Well, you can not have sex, not do drugs, or not have sex with someone who does drugs. But, the Night Light of Life says you will, so I think you're kind of screwed. Sorry Miranda."

"But, I've never had…_sex_…" Miranda blurted out, eyes wide. "And I'll never do drugs! And I severely doubt I'll have…_sex_…with someone who does drugs!"

"That's what they all say. Okay, that's enough psychic stuff for today. That'll be thirty bucks." Jasdero held out his gray-hand. "Pay up, miss."

The dressmaker fidgeted with her purse. "M-may I make a phone call?" she asked in a depressed tone. "I really need to talk with someone about this."

The psychic hippie rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not?" he replied sarcastically. He reached into his furred-collared vest and pulled out a spiffy cellular phone. "Make it quick, I don't have free minutes right now."

Miranda took the phone in a shaky hand. She quickly dialed the numbers and held the cell to her ear.

"Please answer, please answer, please answer…" she chanted to herself. Jasdero looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh.

Apparently someone answered, as Miranda perked up after a few moments of silence.

"Hello, Lenalee?" she asked nervously. She smiled. "It's Miranda." There was a muffled voice on the other line. "I'm at a psychic booth right now, actually." The voice rose. "No, I just found out my future." The person on the other line had a questioning tone. "Actually, I'm going to get AIDS. Yes. AIDS. Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. I don't know why or how, but the person is a real psychic, so it must be true." The muffled voice began firing off questions. "His name is Jasdero." And it was silent on the other line. "Lenalee?" The voice spoke up again. "Oh, you want your fortune told too? Well, it's a bright purple tent in front of Millennium Enterprises."

"You can't miss it." Jasdero added, overly amused.

"Right, I'll see you in a moment. Bye Lenalee, and thanks." She gave the psychic back his phone. "Thank you for letting me use it."

"No problem, the more morons—er, customers, the merrier!" the blond grinned, the stitches stretching on his mouth.

In almost _no_ time, there was a sound of screeching tires right outside the tent.

The flap was almost thrown open for the entrance of one Lenalee Lee, resident female police officer.

Jasdero faltered. "Er, hi."

Lenalee smiled, sitting next to Miranda on another cushion. "Hello _Jasdero_. Nice psychic thing you've got going here."

"Thanks…officer." The 'psychic' looked quite bothered. "So…what do you want?"

"My fortune, of course." The police officer pulled out her handcuffs. "I have this way of arresting con-artists, because those are the lowest of thieves, even from the Noah family mafia. If you can give me a good future, then you won't be arrested."

Miranda gasped. "Lenalee!" she exclaimed. "Don't _threaten_ the psychic! He might be able to put a curse on you!"

The blond nodded exuberantly. "I can do that," he said in a weak tone. "I'm psychic and stuff. I communicate with the _spirits_. I have Suman's dead ghost on speed dial!"

"Uh _huh_. So, what's my future?" Lenalee kept smiling disarmingly, handcuffs swinging on her index finger.

Jasdero sighed in resignation, picking up his golden barrel gun. He held it to the crystal ball threateningly, and the ball swirled before he looked up again, smirking.

"The Night Light of Life says: …SUCKER." And a blast of smoke occurred, making the two women in the tent begin coughing uncontrollably, eyes tearing up and sight blurring. The sound of booted feet hitting the sidewalk was heard, and then the revving of a motor scooter.

"D-damn it!" Lenalee gasped, holding her throat.

Miranda looked sad, even in the smoke. "I should've known it was a trick!" she sighed; only making her cough more in the smoke. The police officer stood up and helped the pale woman stand, smiling in understanding.

"It's okay, Miranda," she said. "As long as you've learned your lesson."

The black-haired woman nodded. "I did. I'll never fall for a trick like that again."

And with that, they walked out the smoking tent.

"Oh, wait!" Miranda said suddenly once they were almost to Lenalee's cruiser.

The cop looked at her, worriedly. "What happened?" she asked.

"I forgot to give him his money!"

Lenalee faltered, smacking her forehead with her hand.

She gave Miranda a grin.

"No, I'm sure he'll be just fine without it."

Little did she know, Jasdero quickly ran out of gas, and with gas prices at the price they are now, he really _did_ need the money.

He huffed, kicking at his scooter's tire.

"Damn it!"

**END 5**

* * *

Ah, those crazy Noahs. Wouldn't know a successful crime if it punched them in the face wearing a nametag. But, even they don't have to do crime to get the time, as Kanda finally gets Allen landed in jail (a reason? Maybe), where he meets Krory, who's just learning the blues. And Lavi too, who was selling the _right_ candy at the _wrong_ time.


	6. SIX: It's the Blues

**Walkin' the Beat**

HALP. I hate Georgia. A LOT.

* * *

_SIX: It's the Blues_

Allen did not have a gambling problem.

Really, he didn't.

"Pay up, good sir," he said with a smile. "I do believe I've won again."

"But…but…this is my _college fund_ money!" the opponent (who was lucky enough to go against Allen Walker) whined, holding out his wallet.

The white-haired man took the wallet, grinning. "Now it's _my_ college fund money. Thanks!"

The sucker huffed and puffed and walked away like the better man as Allen stuck the wallet in his new backpack. The other one was recently stolen, along with his favorite outfit.

"I just got over four hundred dollars in ten minutes!" he cheered, walking down the street towards his favorite café happily. "I haven't seen that grumpy crackpot of a cop all day! This must be the _best day ever_!"

"Oh really?" an eerily familiar voice asked from behind him. "What would it take to ruin that day?"

Allen paused, hairs on his neck standing on end. "…Damn it, it's _you_," he muttered.

Officer Kanda smirked, arms crossed. "And who is this grumpy crackpot of a cop you speak of, kid?" he asked, eyebrow cocked.

"Uh…err…not you?"

"It better not be." Kanda sniffed. He poked Allen in the chest with his baton. "My criminal senses were tingling and they led me right to _you_. I knew you were an immigrant! There is NO European your age with _white hair_."

"What?" Allen yelped. "No! I'm _British_! I'm only here in America for university!"

"That's what _all_ the immigrants say." The cop snapped back, pulling out his handcuffs almost immediately. "Put your hands in the air!"

"But you're not European or American!"

"No, I'm Japanese. Thanks for noticing." Kanda prepared to tackle Allen. "Do you want to do this the hard way or the hard way?"

The white-haired man panicked. "Is there any way for me for me to convince you that I'm _not_ an illegal alien?"

"No."

"How about I show you a trick?" Time for some last measures.

Kanda looked suspicious. "What _kind_ of trick?" he asked carefully.

"A _magic_ trick." Allen learned a long time ago from his old guardian that cops loved magic tricks. He had no idea if it was true, but he was about to find out.

The Japanese cop stared at him. Allen smiled back nervously.

"All right."

The British man thanked god. "Okay!" he pulled a deck of cards out of his backpack, smiling cheerfully. "If I win, you let me go."

"And if I win, you're in jail for life."

Allen paled. "Err, okay." He held out the deck. "Pick a card."

Kanda reached over and swiped a card. He looked at it and nodded. Allen closed his eyes, taking the card back. He shuffled the deck and straightened it once more.

"I hope you like prison, kid." The cop said smugly as Allen pulled out a card.

The gray-eyed eighteen-year-old opened one eye. "The ten of clubs?" he asked holding out the card.

Kanda faltered. "How the FUCK did you do that?" he demanded.

"It's a magic trick."

"…You're going to jail." Yuu Kanda is a very sore loser.

"What?!"

"Don't question me, troublemaker!"

--

"I think I have a gambling problem."

"You'll get one phone call." The officer that escorted Allen said kindly. "We apologize for the inconvenience."

"Thanks, I suppose." Allen replied, smiling. '_Oh my god I'm in jail. I'm too small to be in jail! They'll DESTROY me!'_

He looked around, catching sight of his cellmate, who was turned around on the other bed, his large body dark and looming. "Hello?" he called.

The body twitched.

"Are you okay?"

Another twitch.

"Are you a serial rapist? I just need to know, in case I have to kill you because I defended myself."

The head shook.

"Okay. On a scale from one through ten, what is the likeliness of you attempting any sexual advances?"

"Fweet."

"Fweet?" Allen demanded. "That's off the chart!"

"Fweeeet."

"I don't understand. Could you repeat that?"

"Fweeeet."

The white-haired man blinked. "What is this 'fweeeet' you speak of?" he asked.

The body turned around overdramatically. "Fweeet!" he whistled.

Allen's cellmate was quite larger than he was, in height and build. The man's two-toned white and black hair was gelled stylishly, and he wore an open-chest black dress shirt with black jeans. "Fweet." And apparently a harmonica was in his mouth.

Allen cocked an eyebrow. "You do realize that you look utterly silly with that harmonica in your mouth, correct?" he asked.

The man nodded sadly. "Fweeet."

"Then why don't you take it out?"

He shook his head. "Fweet."

"You don't want to?"

"Fweeet." Another headshake.

"Ooooh…you _can't_ take it out."

A nod. "Fweeet." He started making various hand gestures. "Fweeeet fweet fweetfweet fweeeeet."

Allen nodded. "I don't understand what the bloody hell you just said."

"Fweet." It was a sad whistle.

"Well, um," the smaller man held out his hand. "I'm Allen Walker."

"Fweeet." He grabbed his hand and shook it.

"Your name is Fweeet?"

The man shook his head furiously. He began moving his fingers in the shapes of letters.

"K...R…O…R…Y…" Allen said aloud. "Krory?"

Krory nodded happily. "Fweet!"

"That's a nice name." Allen sat back on the stone bench. "So…what are you in here for?"

"Fweeet."

"Uh huh. I'm in for apparently lying to an officer and attempted thievery." Krory gave him a weird look. "I was arrested by Officer Cokehead. I mean Kanda."

"Fweeeet." The other man nodded in understanding.

"So, how _did_ you get a harmonica stuck in your mouth anyway?"

Krory blushed and looked down, opening his mouth as wide as possible. His sharp canines were lodged in the metal of the instrument, and they obviously weren't coming out anytime soon.

"Wow." Allen said. "I have this horrible urge to laugh, but I would feel bad if I acted upon it."

The pale man shrugged. "Fweeet."

"I'm going to guess you said its okay for me to laugh." So he laughed. Krory chuckled along with him, his laughter whistling, which only made Allen laugh harder.

The cell door was opened creakily, and Lavi was tossed in. "Hey!" the redhead called. "I'm, like, almost legally blind! You can't treat me this way!"

"Shut it, dope dealer."

"It isn't mine! I swear! Oh, hi Allen."

"Hi Lavi!" the white-haired teen waved. "What're you doing here?"

"Selling the right candy at the wrong time. What about you?" Before Allen could answer, however, Lavi held up a hand. "You tried a magic trick on Kanda and he threw you in. Am I right?"

"Wow! However did you know?"

"I have CNN." Lavi replied smugly.

Allen blinked. "Don't you mean ESP?"

"That too. Hi Krory-boy!"

"Fweeet."

The one-eyed man shook his head. "Oh Krory, you must've been trying to do the blues again." He smiled. "Your vampire teeth are way too long to pull off the depressed, sad look."

"Fweeet."

"Ha ha, yeah. That crazy Eliade and her restraining orders. You should probably give up on her you know." Lavi reached into his pants pockets. "Here, have some candy." He gave the man a deceptively white lollipop.

Krory took it, a deadpan look on his face. "Fweet." He unwrapped it and tried to stick it in his mouth, but the harmonica in his mouth kind of stopped anymore advances. "Fweeet."

Allen perked up. "Hey, can I get one of those?" he asked.

Lavi looked at him. "I dunno…" he replied slowly. "You kind of wasted the free one I gave you."

"I have fainting spells. I took my medication this time, I swear!" the white-haired man moved closer to the redhead. "Please?"

"Well… okay!" He gave Allen a glazed, green sucker. "It's Melon Marijuana. The name is totally a coincidence."

"Thanks!" And Allen made to unwrap the candy. "They look suspicious yet delicious!"

Lavi nodded. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah." He grinned. "_Taste it_. You'll love it…forever!"

A cop banged at the cell bars.

"Why?!" the redhead cried to the ceiling. "It ALWAYS happens when he's so close!"

"Allen Walker, you're out." The same Australian officer from his first jail run said. "Chief Komui is letting you go. Kanda is a _great_ cop, but he's kind of…"

"Prejudiced?"Allen piped up.

"Stupid?" Lavi added.

"Fweeet?" Krory said. Lavi translated it as "Obsessed over putting virtually everyone in jail?"

The cop chuckled. "Let's, uh, let's go with all of the above. C'mon Allen, let's go!"

Allen stuck the sucker in his mouth. "Thanks Lavi! Bye Krory!" he called, walking out the cell.

He then tripped over his feet.

"Are you okay?" the officer asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, Reever," the British teen said. "I just feel kind of…_trippy_."

Lavi pumped a fist in the air. "YES."

**END 6**

* * *

Oh no, looks like Allen's finally gotten some of Lavi's drugs that look like candy, or candy that look like drugs. Next, we've got a pretty tame relationship with Tiedoll, Sakuro, and Klaud, three secret agents trapped in the very university that Allen goes to.


End file.
